


Starman

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: M/M, Meeting the Parents, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 06:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17360513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: Marti has never met Nico's dad before.





	Starman

**Author's Note:**

> My new instalment for the series "Stuff That Literally No One Asked For".
> 
> Enjoy? x

“It's in the study, I think? Behind the book... er, thing. There are drawers. Can you look in there? Thanks.”

_In the study behind the book, er, thing there are drawers._

Nico is not at his most eloquent when he's working, his mind a million miles from here, his focus on whatever incredible thing has taken residence in his brain today and is just screaming to be let out. Marti looks fondly at the dried stain of blue paint on Nico's eyebrow.

He's so lucky that he gets to experience this. All of it.

“Marti, the red paint. I'm going to need it in about... _soon_.”

… well, most of it, anyway.

“Going now,” Marti sighs and he rolls his eyes at Nico blowing him a kiss distractedly without taking his eyes off the canvas.

Apparently it's been a while since he's painted anything. Like, officially. With brushes and canvas – the whole deal. But today he was “so inspired. I don't know what it is, it's been ages, I swear.” So Marti didn't exactly get what he was hoping for when he showed up at Nico's place this afternoon, but, well. It's okay.

This is fun too.

And Marti is going to use all the “fetch me this, bring me that, can you please move from there, amore, you're blocking the light” he's been doing to his advantage soon enough.

Marti has never been inside the study but he knows where it is.

He closes the door of Nico's room and walks into the giant living room. He spends a few moments there just looking at the books on the shelves. He touches the spines distractedly and reads some of the titles: he recognises a few. Some are in foreign languages. Some are in languages so foreign he can't even read the name of the author.

He tries to imagine what it would be like to grow up like this. Surrounded by all of this.

Only he doesn't have to imagine because Nico is right there, behind that door. Nico and his endless curiousity and his infectious enthusiasm and his hunger for everything that's strange and different and new.

Marti smiles and walks past the living room, turns left into a small corridor, and stops in front of the chestnut door of the study. There is no key in sight, so Marti just turns the knob and lets himself in.

Or, well, that was the idea.

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry!”

There is a man in the study behind the desk.

Messy dark hair streaked with gray and a beard that doesn't look unkempt only because the man is dressed somewhat smartly. Well, kind of. He's wearing a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a brown jacket is thrown haphazardly on his work desk.

He's wearing horn-rimmed glasses too, but when Marti opens the door he looks up and takes them off and, yeah. If it wasn't obvious before, the bright green eyes are proof enough.

Marti has never met Nico's dad before.

“I'm so so sorry, sir. Nico sent me here to look for paint but I didn't know-”

“It's alright, it's alright,” the man says in a hushed tone and he gestures for Marti to come in. “I'm not even supposed to be here right now.”

Marti stumbles in a bit awkwardly.

The room is packed to the brim. There's stuff everywhere: mismatched pieces of furnitures, books, piles of boxes, more books, endless sheets of paper with weird symbols on them, other books, what looks like it could be a telescope, two computer monitors, one clearly broken, some more books, and exactly zero room to move about.

Marti is afraid that if he breathes a bit harder than strictly necessary, it might send it all toppling down, so he just... stands there, arms behind his back, looking clueless and lost.

_What the hell?!_

“You're not... even supposed to be here?” Marti repeats, thinking he must have misheard.

“That's right,” The man checks his wristwatch. “Half past four. They're gonna call in a second.” Marti stares wide-eyed as the man literally disconnects the landline and hastily switches off his mobile phone too. “Here, this should do. For now.”

“Who's gonna call in a second?”

“The students,” he sighs deeply and runs both hands through his hair making them stick up in all directions. “Well, technically the department manager. Because the students are waiting for me outside my study. And I'm not there.”

“Oh.”

“The queue was endless, you have to understand,” he sounds almost imploring now. “And I knew I couldn't make it today. I haven't even looked at half the stuff I promised I would read. I don't even know where I put half the stuff I promised I would read!”

Marti nods slowly, as if this all makes perfect sense.

“And... can you do that?”

The man smiles at that. A gentle but mischievous smile that Marti knows all too well. He finds himself smiling back without even meaning to.

“Well, it's too late for that now. The real question is, should I have done that?” He grins. “I guess we'll have to wait and see.” He stands up from behind his desk and leans forward to offer his hand to Marti. “Alessandro Fares. You must be Martino, yeah? I've been wanting to meet you, I've even told Anna about that, but then...” He gestures vaguely at the messy room around him, as if that explains anything, and Marti bites his lip and tries not not laugh.

“Yes, that's me. Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Drop that nonsense, please. If I wanted people to call me 'sir' and 'professor' I would be, well... where I'm supposed to be right now,” Alessandro sighs. “You said Nico was painting?”

“Ah, yes. Yes, he is,” Marti says. “I came here before three and he was already setting up everything. He says he's inspired.”

“Hear, hear,” Alessandro smiles gently. “You really _are_ a good influence, aren't you?”

Marti can feel himself blush and looks to the floor.

“I wouldn't know, sir. I mean, Alessandro. I hope so. Thank you.”

“And he's so inspired he sent _you_ looking for paint in this mess here,” Alessandro gestures to the chaos in the room once again. “That's not so inspiring, is it?”

Marti smiles.

“Mostly, I'm not sure I know where to look. Nico said 'behind the book thing there are drawers, look there'.” Marti turns to one side of the room, then to the other. There are books everywhere. “What book thing?”

“'Behind the book thing,'” Alessandro rolls his eyes. “Isn't that school of yours supposed to make fine literary types out of you boys? 'The book thing',” He scoffs and circumnavigates the desk with some difficulty to help Marti look. “He probably means my display stand. It's, uh, under here. If we move these papers to the side a bit. You can put them on my desk there, yes, thank you, Martino. Oh, here it is. I always forget how incredible it looks.”

Marti cranes his neck to see, and Alessandro moves to the side to make room for him. He looks very proud.

It's a display stand like one you would see in a museum. The glass is slighly cracked, but Marti has seen enough of this room not to be surprised by that. Inside, a book is open on the title page. It's an ancient book, by the look of it. Also, it's in Latin, so that's a clue.

“' _De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium_ ',” Marti reads aloud. “'Nicolai Copernici'. Nicolai. Nicolaus.”

_Oh._

“Niccolò in Italian,” Alessandro smiles at Marti's obvious delight. “I'm a predictable man.”

“Nono, that's great! So you teach...” Marti hopes he isn't about to embarrass himself with his less-than-ideal understanding of anything math-related. “Physics? At university?”

“Astrophysics, yes. For my sins.” Alessandro moves the book stand to the side and takes a critical look behind. “I believe you were looking for drawers? Well, here you go. It doesn't look fun, I warn you.”

An old-fashioned wooden double dresser. Six drawers on each side. Every single one of them overflowing with stuff, to the point where they can't even be closed properly.

Marti groans, and Alessandro pats him on the back in solidarity.

“I suggest you go ask the Maestro if he can put his inspiration on hold for a second and come help you with this.”

Marti laughs and walks to the door, but, as it turns out, that's not even necessary.

“Marti?! Have you died under an avalanche of rubbish in there?”

Nico. Shouting all the way from his room. Marti and Alessandro exchange an amused look.

“Not yet! Some help would be nice, though!”

Marti hears Nico pad through the living room and he smiles when Nico peeks inside the room, hair even more of a mess than it was before, an additional streak of yellow paint on his cheek, a confused look on his face.

“Dad? What are you doing here? It's Tuesday. What about office hours?”

“Dad? What dad? There is no dad.” Alessandro does the Jedi mind trick gesture in front of Nico's face. “You did not see me, I was never here.”

“Right,” Nico huffs a laughs. “Good luck trying that with the university people.”

“They are all weak-minded, I'll manage,” Alessandro smiles. “Now, if you'll excuse me, boys, Dad-who's-not-here is going to go look for a snack in the kitchen. Not that he's hungry. How could he be, he's not even here.” He ruffles Marti's hair as he walks past him and pats Nico's cheek. “You boys carry on.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but he smiles as soon as he meets Marti's gaze.

“So, that was my dad. Sorry, I didn't know he was hiding in here,” he laughs a bit apologetically. “I would have issued a warning or something.”

“It's alright,” Marti smiles back genuinely. “He's pretty great, actually.”

“Is he?” Nico sounds sceptical. “What did you two even talk about?”

“The fact that you're bossy and you make me go around the house looking for your things, like I'm your servant.” Marti stands right in front of Nico and crosses his arms in front of his chest, pretending to be mortally offended. He lowers his voice to a near whisper. “You'll have to make up for it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Nico grins and circles Marti's waist with his arms. He pulls him closer. “And what do you have in mind?”

“All in due time, but I will expect you to be very sorry.” Marti cradles Nico's face in his hands and they kiss on the lips, slow and lingering, like sealing a promise. “For now, though, you can open the damn dresser and look for your paint yourself, _Maestro_. I'll be in the kichen having a snack too if you need me.”

Marti makes to go, but Nico holds him by the waist and doesn't let him. Marti tries his best to look unfazed.

From the smug look on Nico's face, he doesn't manage very well.

“Say that again.”

Marti plays dumb because he can.

“I'll be in the kitchen having a snack.”

“Not that part.”

“Oh, it's the Maestro part you like? I see.” Marti grins. “Well, sorry to bring this up, _Maestro_ , but your dad called you that literally three seconds ago. 'Go ask the Maestro if he can come and help', he said. And if you don't believe me, you can ask him.”

“Aaaaaand you killed the mood. Great.” Nico rolls his eyes and pushes him away jokingly. “Let's go have this snack then. You jerk.”

Marti blows him a mocking kiss.

“You always say the sweetest things. I love you too.”

Try as he might, he can't bring himself to make that sound mocking too.


End file.
